


A freak by any other name...

by Rae666



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Development, Character Study, Childhood, Gen, Growing Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-12
Updated: 2011-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-19 07:19:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rae666/pseuds/Rae666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By six, the other kids had already decided to shun him. By ten, he had decided he didn't care.  (Character Study-Sherlock)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A freak by any other name...

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Spoilers for season 1
> 
> Disclaimer: The usual disclaimer stuff… don’t own them, wish I did.
> 
> Author’s Notes: This sort of came from nowhere and I nearly stopped writing it because I felt bad for it and just wanted to cuddle the image of a Mini Sherlock Holmes that blossomed in my mind.

_Freak. Weirdo. Psychopath._

Sherlock had been called many things in his life and had learned to accept them from a very young age. After all, when a child hears themselves called something enough times, they begin to believe it. They begin to think – ‘it must be true’.

 

 _Strange. Different. Unique._

 

By six, the other kids had already decided to shun him. He was the one. He was the kid at the back of the class, in the corner of the playground, skirting the edges of the hallways… alone…

 

 _“Sherlock Holmes has fallen down, fallen down, fallen down.”_

By seven, he had decided he wouldn’t cry.

 

 _“Sherlock Holmes has fallen down, my fair lady.”_

His mummy would draw him into her arms, all black curls and bright blue eyes, and he would let her. But he refused to cry. As she soothed him, stroked his hair and murmured _‘my special baby, my special boy’_ against his ear, he refused to cry. No matter how much his eyes stung or how choked his throat got or how badly scraped his knees were from being pushed down again – he would not cry.

 

 _“Pick him up or let him cry, let him cry, let him cry.”_

By ten, he had decided he didn’t care. He didn’t need their approval. He didn’t want it. And their acceptance? Well, they knew very well what they could do with that.

 

 _“Pick him up or let him cry, my fair lady.”_

By fourteen, he realised he wasn’t pretending. He embraced it. He embraced the names and the cold feeling in his chest and his status as social outcast. Because he genuinely didn’t care.

 

 _“Run away and leave him there, leave him there, leave him there.”_

 

By eighteen, the others realised it too. They still called him names. They still taunted and teased him. They still talked and whispered behind his back. But they knew.

 

 _“Run away and leave him there, my fair lady.”_

By the time he finished college, he had learned to ignore them all. He had more important things to focus on.

 

 _“Sherlock Holmes has fallen down, fallen down, fallen down.”_

By the time he met John Watson, he had long since settled into the role of high-functioning sociopath. He had long since accepted it. He knew who he was. He knew where he was. He knew what he was. And he knew he didn’t care.

 

 _“Sherlock Holmes has fallen down, my fair lady.”_

By the time Moriarty was through… he knew he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!


End file.
